Thursday, August 27, 2015

I remember when my mother died, peacefully, at home.I called the police, the fire department, the funeral home.I called some family and some of moms friends.I guess I kept it together pretty well for all those calls.It was when I called work, and my good friend and workmate answered the phone that I lost it.I can’t imagine what it must be like for these folks at WDBJ in Virginia coming in to work this morning.Prayers and blessings to them.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

At the QT’s getting coffee this morning I saw the pretty girl that comes in all the time. She was up front at the register, so I didn’t stir the Splenda into my coffee, I just capped it and ran to the front, hoping that maybe I’d have a chance to give her my best “Good Morning” in my best voice. I’d never been in proximity to be able to do that before, and she’s very pretty, and maybe this would be my lucky day.So I came skidding up right behind her in line, and I froze like a stone. She was wearing that backless turquoise number layered with a sheer Ann Klein T underneath, which allowed me to see the outline of her lacy little pink bra. It’s a great gimmick, but the thing is…The 3" long tag was hanging out the back of the turquoise top! I froze like a stone.What to do?Should I just step up and say ‘Let me help you with this, baby” and tuck the tag back into her shirt?

(she’s a nice tall size 6/8 and a 34B, with a round face, long sandy blonde hair, and nice nails)Or should I just let it pass?Which do you think I did?

Thursday, August 13, 2015

I’m white, decidedly non-religious, but recognize the guaranteed right of any religion to build a church, temple synagogue or mosque anywhere they like, will pay extra to live in a clean modern and compassionate society, and a huge premium to live in a country with the most modern kick ass military possible. I believe in the brotherhood of man, but recognize, as my Aunt Glesnal would say, “there is a lot of meanness in the world”.

I am filled with southern pride when I see the flag known as “The Confederate Battle Flag” being flown at automotive junkyards, displayed on bottles of whiskey, at Charlie Daniels Band concerts, and all KKK rally’s, as long as it is displayed properly.

This is the same Southern Pride I felt when I was in the sixth grade, and supported George Wallace in his bid for presidency, even though I didn't exactly know what Mr. Wallace was about. I just knew it was my Southern Duty to support him, and that was enough for me.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

"..., leave the statistics stuff alone unless you're
comfortable with uncertainty. I'm just a hack, but I'm already drowning in a
sea of reserved judgments. You see, a hypothesis test can only have four
results. You can say:

A. Based on these data, we can reject the null
hypothesis.

B. Based on these data, we can accept the alternate
hypothesis.

C. Based on these data, we cannot reject the null
Hypothesis.

D. Based on these data, we cannot accept the alternate
hypothesis.

We can't "accept the null hypothesis" because
that isn't our goal. We are trying to discover something novel, not just
reinforce some preconceived notion. If we can't reject the null hypothesis or
accept the alternate hypothesis, we must simply reserve judgment. Maybe some
later test will allow us to reject the null hypothesis or accept the alternate.

This is really a life-changing concept. This is actually
why I consider myself an agnostic fundamentalist rather than an atheist. If I
start with "There is no God" as the null hypothesis and "There
is a God" the alternate hypothesis, I will never be able to state
conclusively that there is no God. I must simply reserve judgment until I see
something which allows me to either reject the null hypothesis or accept the
alternate. Even then, there is still some confidence interval--either a
numerical or a conceptual one--which means there's a risk of making a false
inference. That's the "Based on these data..." part of it.

So unless you are comfortable not knowing, leave the
statistics stuff alone. If just one part of you tries to hold on to the absurd
notion that it's possible to measure something accurately, the resulting
contradictions will tear you apart. You have to let go. If you make the leap,
though, you'll find it strangely liberating. Being able to acknowledge sources
of uncertainty and explain how you dealt with them reinforces whatever argument
you are making. Your stock will go up!"

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

"The season turned like the page of a glossy fashion magazine.In the park the daffodils came upand in the parking lot, the new car models were on parade.

Sometimes I think that nothing really changes—

The young girls show the latest crop of tummies,and the new president proves that he's a dummy.

But remember the tennis match we watched that year?Right before our eyes

some tough little European blondepitted against that big black girl from Alabama,cornrowed hair and Zulu bangles on her arms,some outrageous name like Vondella Aphrodite—

We were just walking past the loungeand got sucked in by the screen above the bar,and pretty soonwe started to care about who won,

putting ourselves into each whacked returnas the volleys went back and forth and backlike some contest betweenthe old world and the new,

and you loved her complicated hairand her to-hell-with-everybody stare,and I,I couldn't help wantingthe white girl to come out on top,because she was one of my kind, my tribe,with her pale eyes and thin lips

and because the black girl was so bigand so black,so unintimidated,

hitting the ball like she was driving the Emancipation Proclamationdown Abraham Lincoln's throat,like she wasn't asking anyone's permission.

There are moments when historypasses you so closeyou can smell its breath,you can reach your hand outand touch it on its flank,

and I don't watch all that much Masterpiece Theatre,but I could feel the end of an era there

in front of those bleachers full of peoplein their Sunday tennis-watching clothes

as that black girl wore down her opponentthen kicked her ass goodthen thumped her once more for good measure

and stood up on the red clay courtholding her racket over her head like a guitar.

And the little pink judgehad to climb up on a boxto put the ribbon on her neck,still managing to smile into the camera flash,even though everything was changing

and in fact, everything had already changed—

Poof, remember? It was the twentieth century almost gone,we were there,

and when we went to put it back where it belonged,it was past usand we were changed."

Tony Hoagland, "The Change"

Hoagland received a lot of criticism for this poem, and here is an extract form his response...."You are confused...you are naive when it comes to the subject of American racism, naive not to believe that it permeates the psychic collective consciousness and unconsciousness of most Americans in ways that are mostly ugly.

The elements of that confusion are, as we all know, guilt, fear, resentment, and wariness. Its sources are historical and economic and institutionalized. We drank racism with our mother’s milk, and we re-learn it every day, as we weave our way through our landscapes of endless inequality....

When it comes to the subject of American race, it is a set of conditions we all suffer, whether in our avoidance or confrontation. We will need to be rousted for another fifty, or a hundred years. I would rather get dirty trying to dig it out of the ground, than make nice.

Tuesday, August 04, 2015

Dr. Martha was no-nonsense. Practiced medicine into her 80's. wore jogging shoes, and wind-sprinted from one patient to the next.My ex went to see her.Shila-“I think I’m allergic to lemons”Dr. Martha- “Don’t eat lemons”Shila- “Don’t you want to test me?”Dr. Martha- “Do you want to get poked with 1000 needles?”